


Felix

by dormiensa, UnseenLibrarian



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fluff and Humor, Magical Creatures, Minor Violence, Post-Hogwarts, Profanity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-20
Updated: 2014-12-20
Packaged: 2018-03-02 08:04:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2805470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dormiensa/pseuds/dormiensa, https://archiveofourown.org/users/UnseenLibrarian/pseuds/UnseenLibrarian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hermione Granger and Harry Potter rescue a magical panther from a Muggle zoo. Little does Hermione know that this big cat is going to have a permanent effect on her life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Felix

**Author's Note:**

> Authors’ Notes: Originally written for the LJ Interhouse Fest 2014. We were both intrigued by this particular prompt, which asked for a new take on the “magical creature’s mating ritual” theme. We hope you enjoy the result of our collaboration. THANK YOU, CKLLS for your excellent beta skills! Also, please note: we do know that a “panther” is not a separate big cat species but is actually a melanistic form of a jaguar or leopard. 
> 
> Disclaimer: In its use of intellectual property and characters belonging to JK Rowling, Warner Bros, Bloomsbury Publishing, et cetera, this work is intended to be transformative commentary on the original. No profit is being made from this work.
> 
> Beta Readers: cklls

* * *

Hermione stomped into her office and slammed the door. After counting to ten, she opened it and gave a general apology for the noise to her surrounding colleagues and then shut it again.

Still fuming, she triggered a spell that opened up a space in the far corner of the room. A wood-panelled wall was revealed and a blue umbrella stand moved toward her. Once she’d positioned herself, the stand came to a halt and a wooden handle emerged from its depths. Hermione removed the small but weighty hand-ax from the stand, hefted it until she found a comfortable grip, and then threw it against the wall. A new wooden handle was already awaiting her when she looked down at the stand.

Hermione kept throwing until the wall was riddled with axes sticking out at all angles.

Feeling sufficiently calmed, she triggered the spell to close up her therapeutic wall. She then sat at her desk to compose a sarcastic interoffice memo to the delinquent and irresponsible Draco Malfoy.

She had just wandlessly opened her door to allow the memo to deliver itself when she noticed Harry outside, posed to knock. “Come in, Harry.”

“Do you have a moment? I’m here on Auror business.”

Hermione motioned for him to sit. “Is something wrong?”

“Not sure. When was the last time you saw Draco Malfoy?”

“It would have been half an hour ago if the wanker had bothered to show up to the meeting that he’s already rescheduled three times! Did you fish his corpse out of the Thames? If so, I have witnesses who can prove where I’ve been for the past forty-eight hours.”

“No, not yet.”

“What?!”

“He’s gone missing. His parents just filed a report with our office.”

Hermione gaped.

“Hermione? Erm, so… when was the last time you saw him?”

“A-about a month ago, when we were working together on setting up pensions for elderly house-elves.”

“You haven’t seen him at all since?”

“No. And the memos and owls we’ve been sending back and forth to arrange our meeting are the only communications I’ve had with him. We were supposed to start a project to protect the habitat of the cat-beasts of Bodmin Moor. I guess that means the project is going to be postponed. How long has the pompous git been missing?”

“Three days.”

“And his mummy and daddy are sure he hasn’t just traipsed over to the continent or some such on another drunken adventure with friends? He’s done that before.”

“His mum’s birthday was yesterday. No owl, no Floo visit, no present.”

“Oh. Then he really  _is_  missing. No ransom note? Have you notified Scotland Yard and Interpol?”

“No note. And I’ve just sent McLeod to Scotland Yard. Higginbotham is liaising with Interpol and the FBI.”

“The Americans? Yes, I suppose you need to cast a wide net. You’ll keep me posted on this?”

“Of course. And if you think of anything, you’ll let me know?”

“Yes.”

 

* * *

 

A couple of weeks later, there was a knock on her door.

Looking up, Hermione saw a harried Harry blocking the entry to her office.

“Hi, Harry. Is it news on the Case of the Missing Malfoy?” she asked.

Harry shook his head. “No, this is something else. I’m sorry to bother you, Hermione, but Luna’s found another trapped magical creature at one of the Muggle zoos. Think you have time to help rescue it?”

“Of course! Wait a minute while I get the necessary forms. Did Luna say what type of creature it is?”

“Panther. And looks like they’ve had it for some time. It’s in bad shape.”

“Oh, the poor thing! All right, I’m ready. Which zoo?”

“Longleat Safari and Adventure Park.”

“Oh, good. We have a liaison there already, so no need to waste time fabricating a story to get it released.”

 

* * *

 

“Well, no wonder he’s had such a hard time getting along with our female leopard,” said Benjamin Bumperpatch, the Squib who was the zoo’s contact with the wizarding world, as he leaned forward from his side of the desk. “Did you know that what we commonly call ‘panthers’ are actually black leopards or black jaguars? Anyway, my supervisor thought, what with him being an outsider, that it’d be a good idea to try mating them and see if we’d get a black variant cub or two out of the litter. Variety being the spice of life and all that, yeah? He seemed healthy enough at the time. He doesn’t look it now, but he was sleek and fit as anything when he first got here. But he and the female have spent the entire time fighting instead of mating. He’s still pretty sedated—it’s the only way to treat his injuries.”

“How did he get here in the first place?” asked Harry.

“Some locals in St. Neot in Cornwall sighted him wandering around and called the London Zoo. But they can’t accommodate another male, so my supervisor managed to convince the govs at ZSL to bring him here. Guess the fact he didn’t get along with anyone, animal and helper alike, should’ve clued me in on his magical nature.”

“Well, I’m sure it’s not the first thing you naturally think of when noticing incompatibility between animals,” soothed Hermione. “But in the future, it doesn’t hurt to alert my office. It’s not difficult to ascertain if a creature is magical or just anti-social.”

Bumperpatch grinned. “Well, the paperwork’s in order. If you’ll wait here, I’ll just talk with my supervisor, and you can hopefully bring the poor guy home.”

A half-hour later, Hermione and Harry stood before a large cage. Hermione gasped when she saw the panther within. He looked thin, and deep, still-healing gashes along his torso spoke of his recent, violent encounters. Since Harry and Bumperpatch were the only other humans present, Hermione surreptitiously cast a few diagnostic spells over the big cat, murmuring quietly to the beast. “He’s definitely magical, though I can’t tell exactly how,” she said after a few minutes. “I can’t tell if he is a magical creature by birth or if he’s been charmed in some way. The Animagus Reversal Spell doesn’t have any effect, though, so we can probably cross that possibility off the list. We’ll need to get him back to the Ministry to do more thorough tests.”

When the cage opened, Harry motioned that he would step through first and had his wand arm raised and ready. Wandless _Stupefy_  and  _Impedimenta_  spells were now second nature to him. The creature had raised his head at the sound of the cage door opening. He gave a deep, disapproving growl when he espied Harry and his tail began to twitch and flick menacingly. Harry was rather taken aback at the animosity. He was used to dealing with cornered prey—human and animal alike—but he’d never encountered this level of hatred. A brief image of Snape flashed through his mind.

To everyone’s surprise, the panther suddenly struggled to his feet and limped determinedly toward Hermione. She backed up a few steps but he caught up to her easily. He rubbed against her legs, nuzzled her bum with his nose, and purred. Hermione chuckled and scratched his ears. “Hello, you gorgeous creature! If you are going around sniffing people’s behinds, it’s a good thing you aren’t an Animagus. I’d have to punish your impudence, otherwise. I’m going to take you back to the Ministry now. We have a Portkey that will take us directly to my department. But first, we'll have to move to an area hidden from the video cameras.”

They found a spot behind some tall shrubbery.  While Hermione was occupied with maintaining a firm grip on the panther and triggering the Portkey, Harry thanked Bumperpatch and managed to take hold of the Portkey, a crumpled paper coffee cup, just as it activated and transported them back to London.

Hermione, Harry, and the panther arrived in the special holding area of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. However, instead of allowing Hermione to bring him into the medical bay to be looked over by the resident Creature Healer, the panther pushed her bodily toward the outer offices.

“Hey! Where do you think you’re taking her!”

The ferocious snarl Harry got in reply made him hesitate.

“It’s all right, Harry. He’s not aggressive, just determined. He doesn’t seem to want to harm me. He could’ve at any point until now. Just leave him with me. Thanks for your help!”

“Well, all right. But if he  _does_  hurt you, sound the alert—Did he just  _roll his eyes_  at me?”

“I’m sure he’s just tired of being manhandled. Aren’t you, you poor thing? Eep!”

The panther had raised himself onto his haunches and, resting his forepaws on her shoulders, licked her face. Hermione staggered a bit under the weight of the big cat.

“Looks like you have an admirer, Hermione. You should inform McLaggen. Maybe he’ll finally stop pestering you.”

The panther grumbled.

“You don’t like McLaggen either? At least we can agree on something. Truce?” Harry carefully put out his hand. The panther cocked his head to one side but then condescended to slap his paw against Harry’s extended hand. He then turned his back on Harry, flicked his tail, and proceeded to push Hermione out the door.

When they reached a familiar-looking doorway, Hermione turned and scrutinized the big feline. “How on earth do you know where my office is?” When she only received an imperturbed look in response, she grinned. “Of course, silly me. You smelled it out.”

The panther rolled his eyes, firmly nudged her across the threshold, and proceeded to settle himself comfortably on the floor by her desk. He lowered his head onto his front paws and fell asleep.

For the rest of the afternoon, Hermione busied herself with bringing the Creature Healer to her office to examine the panther (who very begrudgingly submitted to being poked, though he refused to be prodded), submitting the paperwork to her Head of Department, and sending out notices that a magical panther had been retrieved and would the owner(s) step forth. She was finally forced to remain seated and finish up outstanding reports when the panther laid his head in her lap and refused to budge, effectively trapping her in her chair. She found herself reminded of Crookshanks’ insistence on sitting in her lap whenever she sat down to read in her armchair at home. She absently stroked the big cat’s head and ears as she worked. His purr was loud but pleasing.

When it was time to go home, the big cat made it abundantly clear that he would  _not_  spend the night in the holding area. He took hold of her pleated skirt in his teeth and wouldn’t let go. Hermione cleared things with her Head of Department, who told her to use the strongest magically-binding leash available for his transport. She retrieved the leash and put it on the disgruntled feline before Disapparating with him.

 

* * *

 

“You look awful, Hermione,” Harry told her as they lined up to get their mid-morning coffee.

“And a good morning to you, too, Harry.”

“Crookshanks and Mr. Snotty fighting kept you up again?”

“No. After three days of non-stop hissing and spitting, I think they’ve reached a temporary truce. So long as His Nibs stays in my room and doesn’t encroach on Crookshanks’ territory—in other words, the rest of the flat—they’re managing to co-exist. I just haven’t been sleeping very well because His Nibs snores. And I think he’s still traumatized by his imprisonment at the zoo because he has horrible nightmares.”

“Nightmares? How do you know? Has he hurt you?” Harry asked sharply.

“No, but his tail whipping about has woken me several times.”

“Oh. What… why are you sleeping with him in your bed?”

Hermione gave him a look. “I  _tried_  to have him sleep on a fluffy blanket on the floor  _next to_  the bed, but he wouldn’t have it. He kept struggling and ended up breaking open some of his wounds. I finally relented and let him up beside me, after which he promptly curled up and fell asleep. Crooks isn’t jealous because he’s always slept on the window seat, anyway. I don’t see the harm in it. Except for the nightmares he has, of course.”

Harry shrugged. “Whatever floats your first-year boat. It’s a good thing you’re a cat person. So, no one’s claimed him yet?”

“Sadly, no.”

“You’re sure he’s not a wild cat that just accidentally wandered from his forest habitat?”

“Yes, I’m absolutely certain! Wild cats don’t normally dine on chicken à la crème, steak tartare, and trout à la Grecque.”

“Well, if I were him,  _I’d_  prefer chicken à la crème to dead rats.”

“You’re thinking like a human pretending to be a wild creature. Even if a normal wild cat preferred chicken to rats, it’d still want the meat to be raw and fresh.  _This_  fellow turns up his nose at any food if it doesn’t have the requisite sprig of parsley as a garnish. Besides, he’s got a level of personal hygiene that’s abnormal for any animal, wild or domestic.”

“How so?”

“He uses the toilet, for one.”

“You’re joking.”

“I am not. He even flushes, though like a typical male he leaves the seat up. And unlike a regular feline, he doesn’t use his tongue to clean himself. He runs warm water in the sink, wets a flannel, and then brings it to me. I’ve been spending an hour every night wiping him down with it and then brushing him off until he’s satisfied with the level of shine on his coat. He checks himself in the full-length mirror. Don’t know where he got it and how he managed to sneak it into the flat. You know I have no use for such things.”

“Vain cat. And he has you giving him nightly sponge baths? You’re pussy-whipped, Hermione. All right, you’ve convinced me. But in that case, why hasn’t anyone come forward?”

“I don’t know. I’ve already broadened the announcement to include the continent and America, in case his home isn’t the UK.”

“But he understands English.”

“His owner could be an ex-pat.”

“Fair enough. Well, you’d better get back to the office. You don’t want him wandering the halls and scaring the rest of the Ministry again.”

Hermione sighed. “I hope we find his family soon. I’m tired of babysitting.”

“Well, look on the bright side: at least you don’t have to deal with Malfoy as well. And speaking of which, seems like you’ve traded one snotter for another. But I suppose an imperious feline’s better than a growling Slytherin.”

“Gorgons, maybe that’s why I’m not as put off by His Nibs as I should be. Damn Pavlov!” She sighed. “So, I guess there’ve been no leads in the case?”

“No. We’ve talked with everyone connected with him and searched all the places they suggested. Nothing. No signs of violence, either—at least, not the traceable kind. Haven’t been able to reach his parents, so they’re presumably looking for him out of the country.”

“I’ll let my boss know. I suppose he’ll grab the opportunity to foist another proposal on me. Ever since Pinkerton discovered that I’m good with planning and paperwork, he’s been dumping all new proposals on me, even when I won’t end up being involved in the actual fieldwork. I don’t mind helping out because it benefits the creatures in trouble, but it does impinge on the time I’d rather spend outside the office, actually completing a project.”

“You’re too dependable. And competent.”

“I suppose. Well, back to work. See you at lunch?”

“We’ll be there! Unless we get pulled out for a case.”

“Or Ron gets an owl from Susan.”

Harry grinned, kissed her cheek, and waved as they headed their separate ways.

 

* * *

 

When Hermione shut off the taps in her shower, the ruckus forced her to hastily grab her bath towel before investigating.

“ _Impedimenta!_ ”

Having arrived on the scene of yet another cat fight, Hermione magically separated the foes. “Bad boys! Mr. Snotty, you know you aren’t supposed to leave my room. And Crookshanks, I’m ashamed of you! You know His Nibs’ wounds have just finished healing. These new ones you gave are going to require that he remain a house-guest for longer than anticipated. And  _you_  needn’t look so smug, Mr. Snotty. It’s obvious that you deliberately broke truce. If you’re going to misbehave, I’m going to have the Creature Healer neuter you when she comes to treat your wounds. Yes, you heard me. Neutered! No, I don’t want to hear it. You were in the wrong. Now, apologize to Crooks or I’m bringing you to the holding area at the Department and leaving you to your fate.”

The panther growled but grudgingly tapped his nose to the smaller cat’s snout and then haughtily strolled back into the bedroom.

 

* * *

 

Several days later, Hermione stepped out of the fireplace of her flat and gave a small screech. “Luna! You scared me!”

Luna got to her feet. She’d been sitting cross-legged beside His Nibs and petting him. The big cat was stretched out on the living room rug, looking for all the world like an exotic sphinx. “I’ve found his parents, Hermione. Can you lift your wards so I can bring them through?”

“How did you find them?”

“I overheard them arguing with your Head of Department’s assistant. I’ve already told Draco he needs to wait until you modify your wards.”

“The panther’s owner is Draco?! Where has he been? How come he’s never told me about owning a pet panther?”

The feline in question snorted. Luna gave Hermione a pitying look and disappeared through the fireplace.

Ten minutes later, the alert for imminent guests sounded. Hermione gaped when Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy followed Luna into her small sitting area.

The elder Malfoys paid her no heed as they rushed toward the panther and embraced him.

“Oh, my precious dragonet, you had us so worried! Your papa went as far as Peru in search of you. And look at these terrible wounds! Who has dared harm a hair on my poor boy!” She whipped around to focus on Hermione. “Miss Granger, I demand an explanation!”

Narcissa Malfoy’s furious tone brought Hermione out of her stupor. “He was sighted by Muggles and brought to one of their zoos. We rescued him two weeks ago, but no one claimed him. I guess you were still out of the country at the time. Our Creature Healer assures me the wounds will be fully healed in a few days, and there won’t be any lasting harm. Um, Mrs. Malfoy… I… how long has His Nibs—Malf—Draco been an unregistered Animagus?”

Lucius Malfoy sniffed. “He isn’t some common shapeshifter, Miss Granger. Ailuranthropy has been in the family for centuries, appearing every third generation. It is a proud indicator of our family’s magical prowess. Malfoys need not register like Knockturn Alley strays.”

“Why didn’t he just change back into his human form?” Hermione asked. She felt colour rising in her cheeks as she thought about the last two weeks: every night, the big oaf had hogged her blankets, and he wasn’t even a magical big cat but a transformed human. A transformed Draco Malfoy, no less! Her blush deepened when she recalled the places on her body she’d found his head resting in the mornings.

Narcissa stroked her son’s ebony neck. “He must have been weakened by these terrible bites and mauls that he’s suffered. Don’t you think, Lucius? They must have prevented him from being able to change back. Oh, my poor darling dragonet!”

Indignant, Hermione hip-checked the smug-looking panther. “You’ve got a lot to answer for, Draco Malfoy! If you’d told me about your ability months ago, I could’ve contacted the manor sooner. And I most certainly would not have shared my bed with you!”

“You’ve been sharing a bed all this while?” Narcissa shrieked. “Oh, Lucius! What are we going to do? If word gets out—”

“I told you that you’re too indulgent, Cissy. Look what havoc you’ve wrought.”

Luna leaned down to scratch under Draco’s chin. He purred. “Draco Malfoy had already decided that Hermione Granger was his life-mate even before they slept together.”

Hermione sputtered. “We may have slept together, but we’ve hardly  _slept together_ , Luna. His wounds were still healing. Besides, he wouldn’t sleep on the floor!”

“See? You have chosen your life-mate wisely, Draco. She likes sapphires better than diamonds and emeralds.”

“Oh, I cannot deal with this now! You come home this instant, young man, and explain yourself! Did you not promise me you wouldn’t casually stray into the first bed you were invited?”

The panther growled and would not budge. He stared defiantly as Lucius took a step forward. One unsettling moment later, a very disgruntled, very  _naked_  Draco Malfoy emerged from the spell Lucius cast. Hermione squeaked and showed him her back.

“You have wonderful proportions, Draco,” Luna said. “Have you considered posing for  _Big Beefy Broomsticks_?”

“My son would never stoop to such a level! If he so chose, he would at least have posed for  _Hung, Hexy, and Highly Sexy_! But don’t even  _think_  about it, young man. Your father can still disown you.”

“Mother, if you’d just let me—”

“We will speak about this further at home, Draco,” Lucius broke in. “Miss Granger, I must commandeer that silk scarf I see hanging by your front door. I am taking my reprobate son and hysterical wife home. I will send an owl about setting up a meeting with your parents to discuss the engagement. Good evening.”

“Thanks for all the sponge baths, Granger.”

Hermione wheeled around in time to see, for one thigh-clenching moment, a smirking Draco Malfoy in all his nearly-naked glory before the entire Malfoy family Disapparated with a loud  _pop_.

She stared into the space where they’d been. Wicked, wonderful thoughts were whizzing through her brain.

“I think you should ask Magical Law Enforcement for someone to help negotiate the marriage terms on your behalf, Hermione. I hear Cormac McLaggen is quite good.”

Hearing that name snapped Hermione back from her daydreams. “What the hell is going on? What engagement? He never told me he’s a shapeshifter! Why does he want to meet my parents? Narcissa Malfoy is scary! I’ll let Cormac McLaggen negotiate for me when maggots have drilled through my bones—actually, not even then!  _We didn’t have sex!_ ”

At that point, Hermione’s hyperventilation reached critical levels, and she fainted.

 

* * *

 

Hagrid blinked when he saw who was at his door but quickly stepped aside to allow Headmistress McGonagall and Hermione in.

“Thank you, Hagrid. Hermione came to see me about a… an incident that she has recently encountered, and I thought she could also consult you, since the situation is rather more your area of expertise. I will let Hermione explain.”

Over tea, Hermione recounted her recent history. She’d come to Hogwarts to ask McGonagall for her advice on especially the magical and legal aspects of entering such a binding contract with  _such_  a family. When it came to questions regarding ailuranthropy, however, particularly pertaining to behaviour, the Headmistress felt that, despite being a cat Animagus herself, Hagrid could better elucidate. Ailuranthropes did differ from Animagi in many fundamental ways.

Hagrid gaped at the beet-red Hermione. “So… so yer sayin’ that Draco Malfoy is a catmorph and he  _chose_  you to be his life-mate? Well, I never. I… Have you  _accepted_  his courtship?”

“I can refuse?”

“’Course ye can! And I’d suggest ye think very hard about it. Them Malfoys may have cleared their name, but we all know that Lucius Malfoy was a part of You-Know-Who’s inner circle. I don’ want ye getting tangled up with the likes of them.”

Hermione smiled at her old friend. “Hagrid, you’ve really got to stop saying ‘You-Know-Who’. It’s  _Voldemort_.” She noticed that the Headmistress still winced slightly at the name. Hagrid gave a massive shudder and nearly spilled his tea. She told him, gently, “Harry did truly defeat him. And all the Horcruxes are destroyed, so there’s no chance of him coming back. Ever.”

Hagrid gave a rueful chuckle. “Oh, I know, I know, but it’s been a habit fer so many years. Can’ expect to jus’ stop fearing to say the name, y’know.”

“Even eleven years later?” she gently teased. Her demeanour turned serious once more. “So, getting back to the issue, can you tell me more about… catmorphs, that’s what you called them? Only, Lucius Malfoy said they are ailuranthropes. I tried looking up information about them, but there’s hardly any available!”

McGonagall made a sound that was between a sniff and a snort, but whether it was a comment on Lucius Malfoy or Hermione’s extent of curiosity was unclear as she made no comment.

“Well, they’re rare, and families with morphs tend to keep quiet about it—used to be a popular sport to hunt them, see? All I know is that courtship is unique to the type of animal they transform into. So, you can probably try looking up mating rituals of cats.”

“Thank you, I’ll do that. And Lucius Malfoy was talking about meeting with my parents about an engagement.”

“Oh, well, y’know it’s common among pure-bloods to settle claims to property and vaults before the official Bonding. I guess they’ll have some specific terms about young Malfoy’s extra abilities. You make sure you get a good advocate, ’Ermione—don’ let ’em take advantage of you ’cause you don’ know all them swanky rules.”

“Professor McGonagall has very kindly offered to be the mediator, and I’m sure the Malfoys can’t object. As for an advocate, both Prof—” A clearing of throat and a look interrupted Hermione. “—oh, sorry, Pr—Minerva… both Minerva and Luna said to ask someone in Lawforce.”

“Yeah, they’d know over there. But make sure it’s someone you can trust. An’ maybe bring Arthur or Molly with ye. They’ll know about the non-legal stuff that ye don’. The Headmistress won’ be able to speak up fer ye on those things, needing to be impartial an’ all.”

“Oh God, as if it wasn’t complicated enough already. You do remember that Arthur and Lucius Malfoy aren’t exactly on good terms.”

“Well, all the better, then. Arthur’ll make sure ye don’ get taken advantage of.”

“Good point.” Hermione sighed. “I guess the first step is to read up on panther mating rituals.”

“No, Hermione. I rather think your first step is to decide if you want to marry Draco Malfoy,” said McGonagall, with kind concern. “You may have forgiven the past and even developed a friendship with him, but that isn’t quite sufficient to enter into a permanent relationship. I’m correct in saying that catmorphs have only one mate, Hagrid?”

“Yes, Headmistress. An’ she’s right, Hermione. Yer gotta be sure. An’ ye’d better be telling yer parents abou’ everythin’.”

“Oh, right. Well, I guess…”

Hagrid contemplated Hermione’s blush and, finally, said in a softer tone, “Yer got a good heart, ’Ermione, an’ if there’s anyone who can bring out the decent side of Draco Malfoy, it’s you. If you see somethin’ good in him, then he can’t be that bad. An’ don’ forget yer a Gryffindor. If anyone puts up a fuss, you’ll handle them—I know you can.”

 

* * *

 

“Hermione! W-would you  _please_  come down from there? Honestly, I don’t know how that branch is supporting your weight, but you really shouldn’t trust your personal safety to it so heedlessly.”

Her mum’s admonishment broke Hermione from her musings. She gradually allowed gravity to ease her swinging motions back to stillness, knowing that her mum hated when she used the soles of her shoes to quicken the process.

Hopping off the cushioned wooden seat, she pecked her mum’s cheek. “Don’t worry, Mum. I put a strengthening charm on both the ropes and the branch years ago. If one could fit into the seat, an elephant could swing on it without worries of landing on its buttocks. And don’t worry,” she said at her mum’s expression, “I was very careful when I cast the spells, so no one from the Ministry is going to be knocking on the door. And I’ve put a tiny repelling charm around the area so that people won’t be tempted to play on it. Now, did you need me for anything?”

“No, but you’ve been out here in your thoughtful spot for two hours, so I just wanted to make sure everything is all right.”

“Well, there  _is_  something that’s been puzzling me. I’ve been trying to find a way to explain it all to you and Daddy, and I just lost track of the time.”

When they stepped into the kitchen, Hermione’s dad handed her a mug of cocoa. “Here you go, kitten.”

Hermione accepted the blue mug gratefully and grinned when she saw that her cocoa only contained little yellow marshmallows floating in it. Cocoa had always accompanied “serious discussions” in the Granger household, and as far as she could remember, she’d only ever liked the yellow marshmallows, even though her parents insisted that the “different flavours” were only products of her imagination.

Sipping her beverage and snuggling more comfortably into the one-seater, Hermione debated how to begin raising the issue.

“I dropped by Hogwarts three days ago to talk to Professor McGonagall.”

“Oh? How is she faring?”

“Still as sharp as ever. She reminded me that, come September, the firstborn children of some of my classmates will be starting Hogwarts. It made me feel very old.”

“Well, now you know how we felt when we put you on the train that first time.”

“Were you there to just visit old friends?”

Hermione smiled. Her mum had always been the perceptive one. “Not entirely. You remember how I told you that Harry’s parents weren’t on good terms until their last year, when they were Head Boy and Girl? I wanted to ask Professor McGonagall if she knew what brought on the change. And while I was there, I also arranged to have a private talk with Professor Snape’s portrait.” She took a deep breath. “I wanted to ask him what he truly thought about Draco Malfoy.”

“Malfoy… Malfoy…” muttered Patrick Granger.

“He’s the solicitor Hermione’s been doing those joint departmental projects with. And the one whose dad got into that brawl with Arthur Weasley at the bookstore.”

“What? They’re the same boy? What’s he done now? If he’s caused you any grief…”

“No, no, nothing like that, Daddy. We’ve put our past behind us and become friends over the past few years. The projects helped us realize that we actually approach problems the same way. And even though he’s not a big believer in the rights of all magical creatures in the same way as me, he puts his all into every project he tackles, so he’s always had my back when it counted.”

“Has he finally asked you out, dear?”

“Um, not exactly… Wait, what do you mean ‘finally’?” Hermione stared at her mum.

“Oh, I’ve just had this feeling for a while that there may be something going on between the two of you, but you both have been oblivious to it. Well?” Eithne Granger looked at her daughter expectantly.

“Er… he’s… he’s sort of chosen me as his life-mate, and I’m… trying to figure out if that’s something I should consider accepting,” she told her slippers.

There was an awkward pause. Hermione finally looked up and found her parents staring at her, slack-jawed.

“We are not gaping goldfish,” Hermione told them reflexively. Then, she slapped a hand over her mouth and snorted. It was one of her gran’s popular admonishments to her family. Gran was a stickler for good deportment. Her parents closed their mouths, and her dad grinned ruefully at her.

“So… are you being compelled to be his, er, life-mate? Is there some magical coercion going on? That should be illegal, shouldn’t it? Like those Unforgiveables.” Hermione’s mum began fiddling with her cup of cocoa, a sure sign of agitation.

“I don’t like the sound of any of this, kitten. You should ask the legal department at the Ministry about it; know your rights. Maybe I should contact Arthur Weasley. Surely, he’d know something about this or have contacts who know.”

“Wait! It’s not that bad!” Hermione said in a panicked voice. “I’m not being forced into anything, don’t worry! It’s just that it’s all happened so quickly!” She gave a quick summary of what had been going on in the past few weeks. “I still have to do more research into it. And I’m most definitely not going to meet with the Malfoys until I know more. But Hagrid was right that I should keep you in the loop. So, if you get any type of communication from Lucius Malfoy in the next little while, just let me know and I’ll handle it.”

“All right. But your mum and I want to be at any and all meetings with your legal representative.”

“And meanwhile, I’ll ask Auntie Rachel to find me some documents on how the nobility used to handle property rights and such back in the day when they auctioned off their daughters like sheep,” Hermione’s mum added. “Seems the landed gentry are the same the world over, so I’m sure we can find some useful information.”

“Auntie Rachel does environmental law, Mum.”

“Only in the past fifteen years. She used to do family law.”

“And here I was worrying that Ronald was pestering her about some silly archaic notion again,” Patrick said wryly to his wife. He’d never quite forgiven Ron for his old-fashioned ideas about marriage and a woman’s role as wife and mother.

“Or Harry getting into another spot of trouble.”

“No, although Harry  _is_  somewhat entangled into the situation—but it’s not his fault!” Hermione added hastily as her parents exchanged alarmed looks. “I just mean how he was involved in Draco’s rescue from Longleat.”

“Well, it’s a good thing he’s used to dealing with dangerous animals of all shapes, sizes, and species. If this Malfoy boy had been a werewolf or one of those others that lose their sense of self after transformation, you could’ve gotten seriously hurt. Werewolves don’t have life-mates, do they?”

“Not that I’m aware, but I can always look it up.”

“’S all right. You focus on accruing knowledge of as many laws and regulations related to your situation. By the way, you haven’t said whether you even like the boy enough to contemplate marriage or whatever is involved in life-mating. I’d say that’s an important first step.”

Eithne’s anxious expression and earnest focus on her daughter replaced all the questions she wanted to ask in relation to her husband’s astute query.

Hermione took a fortifying breath. “I like him. Underneath the arrogance, the snarkiness, and the snotty upbringing is a decent person who just needs the right incentive to come to the surface more often. And while I’m not entirely sure I’m  _in love_  with him right now… I think I can see myself doing so.”

“Well, then. At least we’ve settled that issue.”

“Yes. And now that that is settled, tell me, Hermione—would you take his name, or would you hyphenate?”

She grinned. “It’s funny you should ask me that now. Ron once asked me that when we were still dating. He was quite disgruntled when I said I’d probably hyphenate. Apparently, the old wizarding families frown on that sort of thing.”

“What it is with wizards and their old-fashioned ways of thinking?”

“I don’t know, Mum, but I aim to enlighten them, one wizard at a time.”

 

* * *

 

The logistics of the Bodmin Moor project worked out, Hermione and Draco sat side by side in awkward silence. This was the first time they’d been in such close proximity since he flashed her with his firm, pale buttocks (her Transfigured scarf hadn't been able to quite hide the fact completely). That had been weeks ago. She’d been so busy talking with friends and family, and researching about catmorphs, that she’d been lax in her Ministry duties. It was only after Malfoy's fifth aggravated owl insisting that they meet to discuss the project that Hermione managed to re-focus on her work. She’d sent back a Howler to confirm, in retaliation.

“There now, that wasn't so bad, was it, Granger?” Malfoy drawled, breaking the silence at last. He turned in his seat to face her. “I’d begun to think I smelled bad or something, with the way you’ve been avoiding my owls.” He smirked at her. “Maybe I need another sponge bath?”

Hermione bristled at his comment. She folded her arms and scowled.

“That was not fair. You took advantage of me, Malfoy.”

Draco held up a finger. “I prefer to think of it as making the best of a bad situation. I was hurt, I was stuck in my panther form…” He gave her a lopsided grin. “But at least I could spend the time enjoying the company of a warm, kind-hearted woman.”

“Gullible, you mean. The gullible Gryffindork. Oh, don’t even pretend to look innocent, Mr. Slimy Slytherin—what’s so funny?”

“That’s the best you can do? ‘Slimy Slytherin’? You’ll have to try harder than that, my sweet swotticakes.  _Much_  harder. Ow!”

“Oh, shut it, you piddling prat. We still have to get final approval from our bosses and make arrangements with the local authorities at Bodmin Moor. My schedule for the next two weeks is already fully booked with the Weston-under-Lizard scheme, and I know your office has had a lead on the Fingringhoe case, so if we  _are_  to start this project—”

“And does your busy schedule also include a little meeting with the future in-laws or will that require further coordinating?”

Hermione froze. Draco’s tone was light, but he couldn’t completely mask the anxiety behind the question. When she didn’t respond, his face took on a shuttered expression.

“Never mind, then. I’m not heading the Fingringhoe case, so my schedule in the upcoming weeks, while not open, can be rearranged, if need be. So, should we aim to start at Bodmin Moor in three weeks? Assuming we get approval, of course.”

“Malfoy…”

“I doubt we’ll come up against much resistance to our plan, given that Pinkerton insisted we look into the matter.”

“Malfoy!" Hermione took a deep breath. “I’ve-considered-your-proposal-and-am-interested-butIthinkthereareafewthingstoclearupbeforewecommitourselvestoapermanentbonding.”

Draco blinked, attempting to sort through what she said and adding back the spaces she’d dislodged in her haste. “What things?” he asked finally, his shoulders relaxing.

“We know we can work together, and I think we can consider each other friends. But are we compatible romantically? I know that with pure-bloods, love isn’t a requirement for marriage, but it is for me. I don’t need you to announce to the world that you love me or make any grand gestures of that sort, but if you’re only choosing me for your life-mate because I fulfill all the essentials on some ‘suitable partner’ checklist, then I don’t think we can proceed.”

“Then… what do you want me to do?”

“Take me to dinner, at the very least. See a show? A moonlit walk along the beach? What do you usually do on dates? Actually, I’d rather we didn’t do the beach thing; I tried that with an ex-boyfriend, and we ended up at St. Mungo’s because he stepped on a piece of glass.”

“Is that why the Weasel King walks with a limp on rainy days?”

“No! He got hexed by one of the Death Eaters their lot were trying to capture. And it wasn’t Ron I walked with.”

“Krum? How many blokes have you dated?”

“You’re not my boyfriend; I don’t have to tell you. However,” she continued, before he could give his indignant response, “I may be convinced to share that information… depending on how creative you are when courting...”

Draco huffed. Then his face split into a smirk that surpassed Hermione’s.

Before she realized his intent, he’d got his fingers tangled in her curls and pulled her forward into a scorching, mind-boggling kiss.

“Effective and efficient—isn’t that your motto, Granger?” he asked slyly when they finally resurfaced.

She sputtered. “I thought you always prided yourself on brains rather than brawn. The way I was just manhandled— _mmpphh_ …” She broke the second kiss. “I am not one of your brainless trophies, Malfoy! You can’t expect me to— _mmmmmppphhhhh_ …”

Recovering her breath from this last assault, Hermione found herself straddling Malfoy’s lap, his hands on her waist… and found that she didn’t mind one bit. As her awareness increased, she wriggled her hips slightly and smirked when she elicited a groan from Draco. She also noticed that she’d made quite a mess of his hair.

“Dinner, Granger?”

“I thought you’d never ask. And so politely, too.”

“Seven tonight?”

“That should be fine.”

“I shall be at your door at half-six, then.”

 

* * *

 

As the movie got closer to the scene where the von Trapp children sing to the Baroness, Hermione snuggled closer against Draco. Hearing a sharp intake of breath, she looked up and caught him wincing. “What’s—I’m so sorry, Malfoy! You should’ve told me your wounds are still hurting you!”

“It’s fine. Just the occasional tenderness in certain spots where that harpy dug her claws particularly deep.”

“Well, she seemed quite civil when we visited her this afternoon.”

“That’s because there were others around. She only gets vicious when she doesn’t have an audience. If it weren’t for the video cameras all around the cages, I’d probably be dead now.”

“You poor beastie.” Hermione pecked his cheek and stroked his hair. He pinched her nose playfully. “I suppose the video cams were the reason you didn’t try to escape.”

“Yes. There wasn’t a single corner that was hidden from the view of one or another. What’s worse is that the head keeper insisted on trying different ways to entice us to mate, so I got stuck with her more times than was good for my well-being. They finally gave up, but by then, I couldn’t’ve escaped even if they’d left the cage door open.”

Hermione carefully wrapped her arms around his neck and peppered him with kisses. Draco grinned and pulled her into his lap.

Hermione suddenly pulled back with a look of curiosity. “Why were you even near the Cornwall area?”

“I often go to Bodmin Moor when I need to get away and think.”

Hermione sighed and shook her head. “You daft git. This is the perfect example of why the wizarding world—and especially the Ministry—needs to be more aware of its non-magical counterpart. There’ve been local sightings for  _years_  of the so-called Beast of Bodmin, which I suspect is one or more of the magical felines our project is aiming to protect; they must’ve wandered too close to the villages and were sighted by the locals. Even though the authorities have never found evidence of them, it doesn’t mean people haven’t kept a vigilant eye on the area. So, once they spotted you—and likely snapped an image of you on their phones—the authorities were quick to capture you.”

“Lucky me.”

“You  _are_  lucky. Luna rarely goes to any of the zoos because she gets so angry at seeing animals locked away and put on display like freak shows. And if she  _hadn’t_  seen you, you’d’ve been stuck there for who knows how long.”

“Well, my parents were quite put out to discover I’d been practically in the back garden the entire time.”

“Oh, right! Longleat  _is_  quite close to home for you!”

“What’s so funny?”

“I’m sorry, Malfoy. Just… the irony!”

“Ha.ha. I suppose it’d be even more hilarious if I were one of the fae, trapped inside an iron box and slowly dying from metal-poisoning.”

“We-ell, you do have pale hair, pale eyes, pale skin— _mmmmpphhhh…_ ”

 

* * *

 

“He’s a  _cat?_ ” Ron actually stopped eating to stare, open-mouthed, at Hermione.

She tut-tutted and handed him a napkin. “Merlin’s beard, Ron, wipe your chin. You’re drooling marinara sauce.”

Harry was sitting back in his chair and shaking his head with a bemused expression on his face. “You know... it makes an odd kind of sense, Malfoy being able to shape-shift into a panther.”

“What do you mean?”

“The signs have always been there: fussy dress sense, overblown sense of self, graceful moves—yes, even I will admit Malfoy’s got skills on the Quidditch pitch; don’t look so surprised, Hermione.”

Ron swallowed. “Nah. It’s simpler than that, even.”

“How so?”

“Easy. Malfoy’s a big pussy. Ow! Ow!”

“That’s uncalled-for, Ronald! You apologize, right now!”

“Why? The git’s not even here? Ow!”

“That’s even more reason to say you’re sorry. He isn’t here to defend himself.” She narrowed her eyes at her friend. “Besides, if you don’t, I know the Slug Spitting Hex just as well as you do, and my wand is in perfect working order.”

“All right, all right, I’m sorry! Bloody hell, Hermione, since when are you on Malfoy’s side, anyway?”

“Since he declared that I’m his chosen life-mate, that’s when!” Hermione glared at her friends, who were both gaping at her from across the table.

After a few frozen moments, during which Ron had turned a faint, pale green, Harry spoke. “He declared  _what_ , now?”

Hermione sighed. “He’s announced that he has chosen me to be his OTP, his One True Partner.”

“Why would he do that?” Ron ejaculated.

Hermione scowled. “Why not? Draco and I have worked well together over these last few years, and we have become friends. We are a good team—we complement each other’s skills. We’ve also been on several dates now and I’ve had a really nice time. I swear, Ronald Bilius Weasley, if you roll your eyes one more time, I’ll be having a talk with Susan after this lunch of ours. See how you like sleeping on the couch for the next month!”

Harry placed a comforting hand over Hermione’s. “She’s right, Ron, and you know it as well as I do. She and Malfoy really are quite compatible.” He smirked. “When they aren’t threatening to hex each other, at least.”

Now it was Hermione’s turn to roll her eyes. “Yes. Well,” she murmured. “Anyway, he’s decided that I’m the witch he wants for his life-mate.” She blushed.

“But aren’t cats pretty anti-social?” Harry mused.

Hermione was relieved to see that he, at least, wasn’t completely dismissing the idea of Draco and her as a couple. She’d found that she, too, wasn’t against the thought. It was nice to know she wasn’t barking mad. Ha! Barking! That was funny, with all of this cat talk. What was Harry saying?

“Isn’t that right, Hermione?”

“What, Harry?”

“Aren’t cats solitary? I mean… I always thought tomcats were, um… the type to ‘make friends’ with lots of queens, but for a short time only.” Harry fiddled with his glasses. “I didn’t think they had just one mate for life, that is to say.”

“What Harry’s getting at is this, Hermione: we wouldn’t want to see you get thrown away like last week’s egg and cress sandwiches,” inserted Ron, who had one hand clenched into a fist. (The other still held his fork.)

“Oh, I see!” She smiled at her friends, feeling a warm sense of security. They only wanted what was best for her, after all. “I’ve been doing some reading on shapeshifters, as a matter of fact.”

“Of course you have.”

“We wouldn’t expect anything less of you.”

“Ahem.  _Anyway_ , there isn’t a lot written about ailuranthropes, but—”

“Ailing-urine-whatsits?”

“Ailuranthropes, Ronald. Hagrid calls them ‘catmorphs’. Try to keep up. As I was saying, I did find some information about them in a book on magical creature mating habits. Shapeshifters in general are different from the animals they morph into. They follow their human sides when it comes to affairs of the heart, it turns out.”

“So, what does that mean?”

“To put it simply, regular cats don’t mate for life, but catmorphs do.” Hermione smiled shyly. “They can sense when they’ve found their life-mate, sort of like Veela can, but it isn’t a life or death situation for shapeshifters. They just become very, um, persuasive.”

Harry grinned. “He’s been wearing you down, hasn’t he, Hermione.”

“He  _is_  an adept advocate.”

“Speak of the devil, look who’s here.”

Malfoy had just entered the cafeteria. Hermione watched him looking around the room in a bored fashion while he paid the attendant for his coffee. When he turned away from the register, he noticed Hermione sitting with her two best chums. She could see him smirk from across the room. He ambled their way, not hurrying, winding through the tables as he approached.  _How very like a cat he is_ , she thought.

“Granger,” Malfoy said smoothly as he arrived. He gave her a smile and then turned to Harry. “Potter.”

Harry raised his cup. “Malfoy.”

“Quidditch still on for Saturday as usual?”

Harry smirked. “Yep. Are you ready to lose—as usual?”

Malfoy scoffed, shook his head, and then looked at Ron. “Will you be playing, Weasley? Your first sprog’s due soon, isn't it?”

Ron stammered an affirmative to both questions, taken aback at Malfoy’s seemingly genuine interest. Malfoy nodded at him before turning again to Hermione. Resting a hand on her shoulder, he leaned down and murmured in her ear, his breath stirring the curls at her temple. It sent pleasant shivers up and down her spine. Straightening up, he gave her shoulder a squeeze before taking his leave.

Hermione watched him go and then turned back to her friends, all too aware of her blushing cheeks and the sappy smile on her face.

Ron snorted. “Adept advocate, my great-aunt Tessie’s tush.”

He began to eat the slice of cake he’d chosen from the cafeteria’s dessert offerings. Swallowing, he told Hermione, “You know, as long as you’re happy with your decision, Hermione, I’ll support you. I may not like Malfoy a whole lot, but he isn’t as awful as he used to be. Especially when he’s around you.”

“I’m with Ron. I’m behind you one hundred percent, Hermione. But this doesn’t mean I’ll let Malfoy start winning our pick-up Quidditch games,” Harry said.

“So,” Ron continued, his mouth full once more, “how long are you going to keep the bloke hanging, Hermione? When are you going to tell him you’ll marry him?”

It was Hermione’s turn to sit back and gape.

Harry grinned at her. “That’s a good question. When’s your next date?”

“I… uh, in a few days, actually. And then, after that, is the pre-nup mediation with the Malfoys at their home, along with Arthur, Minerva, my parents, and my own advocate, to make sure things are aboveboard and legal. I do like Draco, quite a lot—do shut up, Ron—but I don’t want to be treated like a piece of meat at auction. I have rights and I don’t want to lose any of them because of some imagined shapeshifter mating demand.”

“It’s good you’re having that meeting, then. Get everything out in the open. I’m glad you have an advocate, too. Who is it?”

“Cormac McLaggen.”

“What?!  _More-cack McClagnuts?_ ”

Harry banged Ron on the back as he choked on his cake. “Are you sure McLaggen’s the best choice, Hermione? You know what a crush he still has on you.”

She shrugged. “He is a skilled advocate, himself, you know, and I thought his crush might work to my favour. He’ll go over everything with a fine-toothed comb, looking for unsavoury loopholes. He won’t want to admit defeat without a fight.”

Harry gave a low, admiring whistle. “Very Slytherin of you. Malfoy’s right, Hermione. You two are a scary-good match.”

 

* * *

 

Hermione awoke with a start, completely disoriented. What had startled her awake? The answer soon came.

“Wake up, Granger!” a voice hissed as a hand insistently rocked her shoulder. “It’s four o’clock. If you don’t get a move on, we’ll miss it!”

Hermione groaned and attempted to bury her head deeper into her pillow.

“Oh no, you don’t. Get up or I swear I’ll Levitate you into the bathroom and splash you with cold water!”

Hermione made unintelligible grumbling noises but reluctantly rubbed the sleep from her eyes and struggled into a sitting position. She felt a hand steady her as she got up, and she slapped it away in irritation. She headed toward the bathroom.

As she mechanically went about her usual morning routine, her brain slowly awoke, and she recalled that Draco had somehow talked her into taking the day off work for an early-morning date over a week ago, and that event was now on the horizon. She cursed.

When she stomped out of the  _en suite_ , still swearing under her breath, she noticed Malfoy leaning against the doorframe of her bedroom door. He’d turned on her bedside lamps.

“I see you’ve been working on your cursive language. A definite improvement. You still have some work ahead before you attain complete fluency, but not a bad start.” He laughingly deflected the jinx she hurled at him.

“You’re a right bastard, Draco Malfoy! This had better be a spectacular date you’ve got planned. Else, you may find your family jewels severed from your body and no Snape to stitch them back.”

That wiped the smirk off his smug mug. He raised an eyebrow. “Most definitely  _not_  a morning person, I see. Well, it’s fortuitous that I brought over a strong brew. Your coffee and I will be waiting in the sitting room while you dress.” He uncapped the thermos in his hand, wafted the rising steam toward her, and disappeared from view.

Ethiopian Yirgacheffe! That scrotty Slytherin scunt!

As she threw on some clothes, a tiny voice told her she had to thank Ginny later on for that wonderful expression. It succinctly summed up the wanker.

Hermione’s temper was only slightly tempered by the heavenly brew when she finally got her hands on it, but she was certainly more physically coordinated. And her brain was at least sufficiently revved up. She hated being mentally disadvantaged around Draco Sodding Malfoy.

Meanwhile, said sod had hustled her into a warm coat, hat, scarf, and her sturdy trainers. “Finished your coffee? Feeling more like a witch and less like a sow with a sore head? You’re so sexy when you growl like that, swotsy-love.” He wrapped his arms around her. “Hang on tight. We’re Apparating to the site.”

They appeared in the middle of a field. As her eyes adjusted to the dimness, she realized they were standing in front of a massive rock. Draco manoeuvered her right hand so that her wand-tip touched the uneven face of the large stone. He mirrored that action and intoned softly,

 

 

> _“May the blessing of light be on you—light without and light within._
> 
> _May the blessed sunlight shine on you like a great peat fire,  
>  so that stranger and friend may come and warm himself at it.”_

He then turned her around. She gasped.

In the distance ahead of her stood tall, silent blocks of cut stone in a semi-circle. Stonehenge! Draco clasped her hand and pulled her toward the monument. When they passed through the archway, he told her to head toward the stone that was the only still-standing part of the trilithon at the centre of the horseshoe by following the path of the outer semicircle of bluestones and giving a short greeting of her choice to each still-existing stone. He would go the opposite direction. Intrigued, Hermione obeyed, touching each bluestone and murmuring, “ _Mae govannen._ ”

When they stood before the solitary monolith, Draco indicated that she should step around its right side toward the altar stone. He followed.

Hermione could not hold back her disappointment when, having stepped through and stopped before the altar stone, nothing happened. Draco grinned at her expression and kissed her nose before propelling her toward the trilithon on the right. After examining the outer bluestones, he finally chose one to sit and lean his back against; he tugged at Hermione’s hand for her to join him. She sat down reluctantly and gratefully realized he’d cast a Cushioning Charm.

Draco enlarged a wicker basket and pulled back the cloth. The aromas wafting from the basket were mouth-watering—a veritable feast of eggs, ham, freshly-baked bread, butter, and fruits.

Hermione tucked into her breakfast with relish, sipping her thermos of Yirgacheffe, which magically replenished itself after being emptied halfway.

“Malfoy, while I appreciate the novelty of having breakfast at Stonehenge and waiting for sunrise, did I really need to take the day off? We could’ve done this over the weekend.”

“Today is Lughnasadh.”

“I thought that was a few days ago?”

“For Muggles, perhaps. Wizards mark the first day of harvest more precisely.”

“All right, fine. Why Stonehenge?”

“You’ll see in about twenty minutes. Just eat your breakfast and be patient.”

The sun rose soon after half-five. As the first rays shot above the horizon, a magical hum resounded around them. Hermione squealed in astonishment. The gaps and cracks in the existing sarsen circle trilithons filled in until that they stood perfectly rectangular; and missing columns and lintels of stone re-appeared to complete the circle. The bluestone they’d been leaning against stood tall and proud once again. Hermione got to her feet and began walking to and fro, soaking in the sight from every possible angle. Peering through the gigantic stone archways, she could see the North Barrow, the South Barrow, and the holes that formed the three ever-widening bands of concentric rings around the trilithon monument.

Finally meeting at the absolute centre of the structure, Draco held her hands in his and asked, “So, was this worth the wait?”

Hermione beamed. “This is  _so_  much better than the trip to Longleat to visit the vicious female who attacked you. Is Stonehenge always like this when magical folk visit it or only on special days like today?”

“It’s always like this, but there is obviously greater potency and symbolism when coming to see sunrise or sunset on certain important calendar dates.” He smirked. “I’m sure you can guess them.”

Hermione nodded. “I’d love to come back for the solstices, especially.” She sighed contently as she looked about. Draco squeezed her hands.

A sudden thought occurred, and she focussed narrowed eyes at him. “This doesn’t have something to do with me upstaging you by bringing you to the Barnes and Noble in America that holds the record of largest bookshop in the world, does it?”

“That  _was_  impressive.”

“And you squealed like a girl.”

“I did  _not_! And no, this isn’t some sort of payback. I just thought you’d find it a meaningful outing.”

“If it’s Lughnasadh, why is there no one around?”

“Oh, they’ll start arriving in droves around sunset. It’s a full moon tonight.”

“But shouldn’t the start of harvest begin, well, in the morning?”

Draco shrugged. “I’ve never participated in any of the rituals. I just remember stories from childhood about how the ancients used to come to the site to celebrate the start of autumn.”

Hermione kissed him. “Well, I appreciate the thoughtfulness. Now, are we intending to stay here all day or do you have something else planned?”

“Well, seeing as how I dragged you from your beauty sleep this morning...” he drawled.

"Yes, thanks awfully for that,” she said.

“Oh, you’re quite welcome. Anyway, I thought we could repair to your flat for a mid-morning nap.” He raised a suggestive eyebrow. “And then do some book browsing in the afternoon.”

“Mmm. Sounds delightful. At least, the book browsing. From the smug look on your face, I’m guessing you’ve found a rival for that Barnes and Noble bookshop?”

He practically oozed with self-satisfaction. “As a matter of fact, Blaise mentioned the other day that he knows of a library in Istanbul that is the largest repository of illuminated manuscripts and other rare books.”

“Ooo, really? Well now, that  _does_  sound tempting!”

“Mmm, I’m glad you think so.”

“And we can skip the nap. I feel fine after all that coffee. Though I should probably change into something else if we’re going to Istanbul. And you should drop off the basket at the manor. Shall we meet in my flat in a half-hour?”

“I have a change of clothes tucked inside the basket as well as the Portkey, so why don’t we just head to your flat now? But first, we’d better put the place back in order. The next wizard or witch to visit won’t appreciate being deprived of performing the revelation.”

Following his precise instructions, Hermione touched the bluestones on the left side of the inner circle, saying farewell. When they met at the central trilithon, she walked between the columns, pulling Draco through behind her. Hands still clasped, he led her to the western-most archway of the sarsen circle, where they parted to stand separately before each column. “ _Au revoir_ ,” he said after they pressed their hands against the stone faces. Rejoining hands, Hermione stepped through. After walking several feet, they turned around and watched as Stonehenge reverted to the façade of ruins.

Embracing each other, Hermione Apparated them to her flat.

 

* * *

 

The day of the pre-nuptial mediation arrived. It took place in the library at Malfoy Manor.

It was three hours of stiff posture, stilted dialogue, and formal legalese.

It had entailed much consultation of domestic law texts from both the wizarding and Muggle worlds. The Malfoys’ advocate and Hermione’s traded barbs over almost every point. And Arthur Weasley and Narcissa Malfoy interjected at junctures when either Hermione or Draco was talked about like property rather than people.

In the interests of fairness—and to reduce the chances of bodily harm—every magic-user’s wand had been set aside, to be watched over by moderator Minerva McGonagall, whose integrity went unchallenged by everyone present.

To his credit, Lucius Malfoy had shaken Patrick’s, Eithne’s, and Arthur’s hands without prompting or visible wincing, as had Narcissa. Draco had greeted both Hermione’s parents warmly, a charming move that had Hermione smiling inwardly even before the discussions had started. She’d also caught her mother smiling broadly, with flushed cheeks and a twinkle in her eye, after speaking to her potential future son-in-law.

Cormac’s opening gambit of suggesting an open marriage, granting Hermione the option of entertaining other lovers whenever she desired, was actually being considered by the parents on both sides of the equation. However, when Hermione and Draco realized this, they simultaneously shouted the idea down. Arthur smiled approvingly at both of them.

Lucius had to be scolded more than once for his eye-rolling, but he insisted that that was simply his nature and not a reflection upon the parties present.

Throughout the proceedings, Draco lounged regally in his armchair, his eyes never straying from Hermione’s face. He’d throw her a wink whenever she met his gaze, leaving her blushing and distracted.

Two hours in, there was a bit of shouting on the part of her father. Patrick Granger resented the implication that his daughter would be mere chattel if she married the Malfoy heir. Narcissa and the Malfoys’ advocate assured him that that was not the intent nor would it be the outcome of a marriage to Draco. She would retain all rights to her person and any property she brought to the union. Hermione fired “Core-my-ass” McLaggen at that point, as it became clear that he only had his own best interests at heart.

She hated it when Ron and Harry were right.

At long last, despite her advocate’s fumbling attempts to sabotage the proceedings, Hermione and her parents were satisfied that there was nothing nefarious about the senior Malfoys’ betrothal plans, aside from a few old-fashioned views regarding sleeping arrangements. Reputations had to remain pristine, and heavens forbid if there were any children born out of wedlock. (The concept of contraceptive spells, potions, and Muggle alternatives didn’t seem to hold any merit in the wizarding world. Neither did the fact that she and Draco hadn’t even slept in the same bed as the same species, let alone had intimate relations. Appearance was everything.) Her parents were pleased that their daughter would remain in control of her own person and property, and even her own name if she so chose. The Malfoys looked appeased that Draco’s reputation would remain unsullied. Their future grandchildren would be, without question, Malfoys born in wedded bliss.

All that was left was for Hermione to accept Draco’s proposal.

 

* * *

 

“Granger. Come with me,” he whispered in her ear, taking her hand in his. He’d sidled up next to her while their fathers busily congratulated each other and their mothers smiled and dabbed at their eyes. “Quickly, before they take notice of us.”

She silently complied. Draco retrieved both their wands from Headmistress McGonagall and led Hermione through the Manor to its back gardens. There was a hedge maze there, and they began to meander along the path.

“Well. That was… enlightening,” Hermione said carefully.

Draco snorted. “It certainly was. I’d never meant for things to be so… cold and business-like.” He shook his head. “I will never approach my children’s potential marriages that way.” He glanced sideways at her. “All you need is love.”

Hermione eyed him in surprise, but he didn’t seem to realize the significance of what he’d just said. Nevertheless, the earworm burrowed into her head and she began to hum the Beatles’ tune.

“You’re musical, too, eh, Granger?” he said with a smirk. “Is there nothing you can’t do?”

Hermione regarded him. “I can’t fly worth a Knut.”

He burst out into genuine laughter, the first she’d heard all day, and she smiled. She liked his laugh.

They’d reached the center of the maze, where there was a small fountain, a grouping of benches, and trees and flowerbeds arranged just so. He led her to a bench and gestured for her to sit. She did, but he remained standing, facing her. He had his hands in his pockets and seemed uncharacteristically unsure of himself. He started to speak several times but stopped himself each time. Hermione sat quietly, waiting. She admired the flowers nearby.

After a few minutes, he seemed to relax. He gave her a sly look. “McLaggen? Seriously?”

She looked up at him, her eyes flashing, but she smiled sheepishly when she saw him grinning at her, one eyebrow raised. “I… had a weak moment. I didn’t think that one through.”

“Ah. So you can’t fly, you’re not a morning person, and you’re pants at choosing legal representation,” he said, seemingly making mental notes.

She folded her arms and stuck out her chin. “I talked to many people before coming here today, you know. McLaggen wasn’t my only counsel.”

“Thank Salazar’s saggy sac for that,” he remarked. He held up a placating hand when Hermione began to sputter. “I’m sorry, Gra—Hermione. I didn’t bring you out here to tease you. I…” He stopped again but then pulled his hands out of his pockets and dropped to both knees in front of her. He took her hands in his.

“Hermione,” he said, rolling her name slowly off his tongue as if getting used to a new flavour. She liked the sound of him saying her name.

“Draco,” she said, imitating his tone.

“Hermione.”

“Draco.”

“Hermione?”

“Draco?”

Hermione waited patiently. She knew that Draco was struggling internally. As a pure-blooded Slytherin—and a Malfoy, if Lucius was any indication—he was balking at the idea of elucidating his emotions, but it was a necessary part of the courtship ritual of ailuranthropes. And she knew that any attempt to lighten the situation could easily be misconstrued as taunting or rejection, so she kept quiet and hoped he could summon a hidden cache of courage.

Draco took a deep breath and slowly rubbed his thumbs over her knuckles. “I know that we’ll probably be the most unexpected wizarding couple to appear in over a hundred years. The press will have a field day.” He took another deep breath. Hermione realized she was holding her own. “But we’re different now. The world may remember us as the schoolchildren we once were, but I know you as you are  _now_. You know  _me_  now. We’ve had ten years to get to know each other as adults. We work well together. We’ve shared meals, and jokes, and books, and the same opinions about certain Ministry officials. And now we’ve been on a half-dozen dates. I know I’ve enjoyed every one of them. Am I wrong in thinking that you were enjoying yourself, too?”

He looked up at her with such an uncharacteristically earnest expression on his face that Hermione felt tears prick her eyelids.

“I love your kindness. I love your big heart and your strong beliefs. I love how fiercely you fight for causes. I love your huge mane of hair. To put it simply: I love being around you, Hermione.”

Hermione blurted, “So, why didn’t you ask me out on a date sooner, Draco? I might have surprised you and said yes.”

He looked away. “I didn’t have the courage. After all this time together, I knew you were the one for  _me_ , that you were the one I wanted to spend the rest of my life with, but what if you didn’t feel the same way? What if you turned me down flat? What if we did start to date, and then you ran away screaming when you found out I was a shapeshifter? I couldn’t stand to think about it.”

“Draco,” Hermione started to say, but he shook his head.

“I don’t know how others in my family handled telling their spouses about the ailuranthropic trait. The last catmorph before me was my great-grandfather, Leonidas Malfoy, and he died long before I was born. Supposedly, he simply swept my great-grandmother off her feet and eloped with her, marrying her before telling her about his shapeshifting ability, but you… but I… I didn’t know what to do. So, I went away and hid in panther form on Bodmin Moor. I needed to think. And I did, and I’d made my decision to come back and woo you properly—but then those bleeding heart Muggles caught me and threw me into that iron cage with that feisty female! Merlin, she was merciless!”

Hermione couldn't keep the smile off her face while listening to Draco’s righteous indignation. “Anyway, by the time you and Potter came to help me escape, I couldn’t change back because I’d been so badly wounded. Then you were so giving and kind, taking me into your flat and feeding me and dressing my wounds—”

“And undressing my own body in front of you,” Hermione remarked.

“Yes. Twice a day, in fact. And the sponge baths. I lived for those. Didn’t I say you were a wonderfully giving person?” He smiled when she rolled her eyes. He squeezed her hands. “When Loony Luna came to your flat, she performed Legilimency on me—why didn't any of the rest of you think of doing that?—and she discovered that I wanted you for my life-mate. After spending so much time with you, I don’t think I could have hidden from her my feelings for you. And, well, here we are.”

“Here we are.” She entwined her fingers with his.

“I need you, Hermione. I can’t imagine life without you. Even if we can’t go back in time or completely make up for the loss, I know we’d still reach this moment. Marry me, Hermione. Please say you’ll be my life-mate.”

Hermione studied his face as she remembered their time together in school. Then she thought about the past few years. She weighed everything she’d read, and heard, and experienced in the recent weeks. Every date they had been on recently flashed through her mind, leaving nothing but warm feelings and delightful shivers behind. She looked deeply into his eyes and caressed his cheek with her hand.

“Come to me tonight, Draco, and you’ll have your answer.”

 

* * *

 

Hermione spent her evening reading and actively trying to ignore the anticipatory nerves sparking throughout her body. Would he come? Would he run again, without even giving her an opportunity to assuage his fears? She startled at every little sound, and when a great commotion arose outside her window, she leapt to her feet, wand at the ready, braced for an attack.

She raced to her window and threw it open, a  _Stupefy_  on her lips. The sight that met her eyes stopped her in her tracks, however, and all she could do was stare.

Sitting on the lawn in the middle of a semi-circle of yowling cats was Draco in his panther form. Her research had pointed out that during the final stage of courtship, an ailuranthrope needed to showcase some unique trait or skill to further convince his life-mate of his eligibility. She hadn’t expected that he’d perform in his feline form, but it made sense. Why wouldn’t he show off this side of himself? He was sleek. He was regal.

He was singing.

Well, it sort of  _sounded_  like singing. Hermione couldn’t really tell, although his yowling voice did sound less ear-piercing than his back-up chorus… Hermione did a double-take. Was that  _Crookshanks_  to Draco’s left?! She was about to lean out of her window to tell them to stop making such a ruckus when a slight glimmer in the darkness alerted her to the fact that Draco had cast a magical sound barrier. Well, at least the neighbourhood would not be held hostage to his impromptu concert.

Smiling but shaking her head a bit at the antics, Hermione wondered how long the concert would last when the caterwauling stopped abruptly. Her attention once again drawn to the clowder, she saw Draco lightly head-butt each member of his choir before dismissing them. Then, to her astonishment, he began scaling the brickwork toward her window. Hermione froze in fascination and horror as he made his way up.

When they were at eye level, Draco’s eyes narrowed, and he gave an imperious growl. With fumbling fingers, Hermione stood aside from the window. Draco gave a sound between a snort and a sniff as he crawled through. Unfortunately, his back haunches were just a bit too wide. Suppressing a chortle, Hermione levitated and angled him slightly so that he could fit through.

Once he was securely on all fours again, Draco pushed Hermione toward her couch. Hermione landed with a soft  _fwoomp_. She gave a squeak when he nestled between her pyjama-clad thighs, his nose pressed against their apex. Draco purred. The resulting vibrations set her nerves on fire.

“Draco? You… I’m not really comfortable with you in your… please change, Draco,” Hermione whispered, her fingers stroking behind his ears. He raised his head reluctantly, and then once again, she witnessed his somewhat unsettling transformation from panther to human.

A  _completely naked_  human.

The change complete, he grinned up at her from between her legs. “Hello, Hermione, my life-mate love.”

“Hello to you, too, Draco,” she said, with a nervous laugh.

He climbed onto the sofa and crawled up her form, his arms and legs on either side of her. He nuzzled at her neck with his pointy but handsome nose. “Did you like my song?” he murmured. “It’s a love ballad. I composed it just for you.”

She was ticklish and squirmed under him. She felt him smile against her skin. “Thank you, Draco. I’ve never heard anything like it,” she answered truthfully. “It was quite… um... memorable. Do you sing in the shower, too?”

He stopped and looked her in the eye. “But of course! Doesn’t everyone?” He fingered the strap of the simple white pyjama tank-top she was wearing, his fingers caressing the soft skin of her shoulder. “If you’d like, I’ll sing for you in the morning.” He looked at her slyly through half-lidded eyes. “Every morning.”

His hard length was pressing against her stomach, which at that moment was doing a remarkable impression of a butterfly exhibit at the zoo. Still, she had to be sure.

“Draco, do you really want this? With me?” she asked in a small voice. “Because as good as this feels at the moment, I’m not into casual sex to scratch an itch. I’d rather risk being old-fashioned and wait until after we’ve Bonded.”

Draco rubbed her nose with his. His eyes bored into hers. “Yes, Hermione. Like I told you earlier in the garden... you are the one I choose to spend my life with.” He licked the tip of her nose. “I mean that from the bottom of my heart. And sex between life-mates is never casual.”

They stared into each other’s eyes for a few moments and then she nodded, shyly. “Then, I choose to be your life-mate, Draco.”

With a big, toothy grin, Draco proceeded to kiss his way down her neck to her collarbones. His lips and tongue were talented and playful, and she squirmed and giggled under his ministrations. She held him close to her, unwilling to let go of this wonderfully warm being in her arms.

“I, ohhh…” she sighed. “This feels wonderful, Draco.” She twined her fingers into the hairs at the nape of his neck. He purred low in his throat and slid her tank-top up with his hands, caressing the warm flesh revealed.

"I’ve barely gotten started, Hermione,” he growled. He stripped the tank-top off her completely, made a pleased noise as her breasts were finally revealed, and dipped his head to take one of her nipples into his mouth.

“Oh!” Hermione gasped, clinging to him. On instinct, she wrapped her legs around his waist, holding him against her. His whole body was so warm, and his manhood, resting against her core, was hot and hard. How did he know how to do that with his tongue? It felt so good!

“Draco…” she moaned. He continued to suckle her breast. “Draco, how many women have you…”

He answered her by letting go of one breast and switching to the other but paused to say, “There have been a few women in my life, Hermione. Enough so I have learned a few things about taking care of a lady in the bedroom. But there’s been no one since I realized you were my life-mate. No one at all.” He gave her a feral smile and ground his erection against her. “I behaved myself on all of our dates, and now, sweetheart, in case you hadn’t noticed, I’m rather horny.” He extended his lips, ape-like, to kiss her erect nipple in a teasing fashion. Hermione shivered.

“I’m nervous, Draco,” she breathed. “It’s been much too long since I’ve been with someone.”

He grinned. “Leave everything to me.” He kissed his way down her belly. He paused at the waistband of her cat-patterned pyjama bottoms and looked up at her. “These are cute, but they’ve got to go.” He kissed her mound through the thin cotton covering it. “I love the heightened sense of smell I have as a panther, but nothing can beat making love as a human.” At her expression, he added, “And no, I’ve never done the deed with anyone in panther form because I lose interest in sex with my partner at the time once I transform. It may have been different if she were also in feline form, but I’ve never found out.” He smiled. “And I don’t care to.”

Hermione felt a wave of relief wash over her, quickly followed by a surge of arousal as he tugged her pyjama bottoms down and off her body and proceeded to bury his face in her folds, licking and sucking and teasing and tasting. His tongue was incredible, finding every millimeter of sensitive flesh between her legs. She couldn’t think, only feel, and she could only thread her fingers through his hair and hold on as he drove her pleasure to heights it had never reached before.

As her orgasm surged through her, she cried out his name, tears running down her cheeks from the sheer intensity of her ecstasy, and then suddenly, he was over her and in her, thrusting deep, and it felt  _oh! Oh, yes!_  So good! His cock was thick and heavy and just the right size to fill her completely. He moaned against her throat, his lips suckling her skin as he plunged himself into her over and over. His length stimulated every nerve-ending inside her and his thrusts rubbed her clitoris perfectly. His rhythm was relentless and rapturous.

“Dra—Draco,” she stammered, rocking her hips in perfect rhythm with his. “I’m… Oh! I’m going to come again…”

His answer was to grin, and growl, and grind his hips against her, and thrust into her ever faster, ever deeper. He’d been holding her bum, kneading her cheeks with both hands, but now he slid one hand up to grasp her breast. He tweaked the nipple between his thumb and forefinger and sucked her other nipple into his mouth at the same time. He nibbled and pinched both nipples, hard, and with his next deep thrust, Hermione came apart around him, with him, over him, crying out his name as she climaxed. Draco growled her name as he felt her clench around him, and he plunged into her to the hilt before reaching his own peak. His seed spewed forth inside her, hot and sticky, and he hummed in euphoric triumph as he ground his hips against her and claimed her as his mate for life.

As they both came down from their high, Draco’s erection slowly softened, and he slid out of her, but before she could miss the connection, he curled around her, holding her close. He nuzzled her hair, the two of them still breathing hard. She laid her head against his chest, listening to his strong heartbeat. She idly traced a pattern in his fine, golden chest hair.

“Draco,” she murmured after a few minutes. He grunted in answer. “I’m… I’ve been on a contraceptive potion for years,” she continued, waiting for his reaction.

Draco caught her gaze and chuckled, cuddling her close. “That’s fine, sweetheart. Did you think I would mind?”

Hermione laughed softly. “I gather there is no Veela-like imperative to the, um, the ailuranthropic mating ritual?” she asked. “Conception isn’t a bonding requirement? That is something none of the books could confirm.”

Draco shook his head emphatically. “No, Hermione. Singing for you—and making love with you—is simply my way of cementing our bond. Offspring is optional.” He gave her a sly smile. “I would like children someday, of course…” His voice trailed off.

Hermione gave him a squeeze. “As would I, Draco, love.” She smiled back at him. “Once we are properly married and all that.”

Draco laughed, eyes alight, and held her even closer.

 _I’ll quickly get used to this, won’t I_ , Hermione mused, snuggling against him.

 

* * *

 

The next morning, Hermione woke gradually, surrounded by pillows and sheets imbued with the scent of Draco. Contrary to her usual, grumpy attitude toward morning, on this particular a.m., she felt downright happy. Eyes closed, she stretched luxuriously, enjoying the soreness in her muscles and the memories of the night before that they evoked.

Her questing hands utterly failed to find her bedmate, however, and she opened her eyes fully to check. Sure enough, there was a distinct lack of Draco under the covers, though they were still warm from his body. At that moment, she became aware of running water in her bathroom. She smiled. A shower did sound good. She slipped from the bed, nude, intending to join him under the water.

Just as she reached the bathroom door, Draco began to sing. Although his voice was a bit muffled, it was a deep and rich baritone that sent wonderful shivers down her spine. His panther-form’s singing voice was interesting, that was certain, but this marvelous, resonant human voice of his was definitely her preference.

Carefully turning the doorknob, she quietly swung the door open and stepped into the steamy bathroom. When he reached the chorus of the song, she began to sing with him in a pleasant soprano, their voices harmonizing perfectly. Smiling as she sang, Hermione pulled aside the curtain and stepped into the tub to join her life-mate.

 

  **THE END**

**Author's Note:**

> Minor changes were made to the text to correct for errors. The greeting spoken by Draco at the Heel Stone of the Stonehenge complex are the opening lines of a Scottish blessing. This site was particularly helpful in describing Stonehenge: http://www.stone-circles.org.uk/stone/stonehenge.htm


End file.
